


And His Name Was Lola?

by Anonymous



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: AU, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gay Panic, Hamburg Era, John and Paul never met at the fete, M/M, Neither of them know a lick of German, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paul and Ivan are confused dumbasses in this story, Sheltered Paul, You Have Been Warned, as I update chapters, confused Paul, eventual mclennon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:54:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28463433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: After their shared 18th birthday Paul and Ivan decide to go on a daring trip to Hamburg in an attempt to spice up their up their dull, boring lives. Unfortunately neither of them, especially Paul who had lived out his life up until this point as a sheltered schoolboy, were really prepared for the nightlife of the Reeperbahn and the lifestyle that the Red Light District had to offer. And really, who could blame Paul for assuming that it was a woman?So basically I suck at summaries but this is an AU where John and Paul never met at the Fete and instead meet in Hamburg in August when Paul is 18 and John is 19 and John is doing work in drag for reasons not yet revealed. This story was inspired by the song Lola by The Kinks.
Relationships: Astrid Kirchherr/Stuart Sutcliffe, John Lennon & Paul McCartney, John Lennon/Paul McCartney, Paul McCartney & Ivan Vaughan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Hello! Thank you for clicking on my humble story, kudos/comments are much appreciated and questions are welcomed. I will most likely correct grammar errors and misspellings as I update the chapters since there are bound to be at least a few in there and I was in a rush. I will also update any phone conversations into italics once I figure out how to :P
> 
> Disclaimer: This work is purely fiction and no disrespect is intended for anyone in this story. I do not own any of the characters, all of it is just a story cooked up in my brain and I thought it would be wonderful to turn into a full length fic.

“Well? What’dja say to em, Paul? Does he know?”

“...No. But I’ll call him and explain my reasons when we get there. Can’t try to convince me to stay if I'm already gone. ‘s better this way anyways, less mouths to feed if it’s only Da’ and Mike.”

“Well alright then, bit of a daring move. You sure about it? I’m not gonna stick around to save yer sorry ass if the old man starts throwin’ hands.”

“.... “

“I’m sure.”

“Ok then, I’ll meet you at the dock at quarter past. Don’t be late ‘cause I’m not gonna wait around for the next one.”

“Out of the two of us who’s the one always laggin’ behind on time?”

“Touche. Gotta say McCartney, I didn’t expect you to even agree to this, let alone go through with it in all honesty.”

“At this point I’d still board the boat even if you didn’t show, Ivan.”

“Right, well I’ll be there so no use talkin’ bout me not makin’ the bloody boat. Ta for now then, see you at the docks.”

There was a muffled click from the other end of the phone, then the sound of a thrumming closed line filled Paul’s ear, continuing on for a few seconds before he hung up the receiver with slightly shaky hands. 

It was finalised now. They were finally going to go through with it after weeks of planning. They were leaving Liverpool.

He’d finally taken control of his life for once. Paul and Ivan had been celebrating their birthdays two months prior, lamenting the fact on their shared birthday that had turned 18 two months prior yet they still felt like nothing had changed, making the day feel a bit glum with both their thoughts centred on their relatively dull and boring lives up until that point, almost feeling like they had missed out on something years before that should've been a big part in both of their lives.That was only the explanation that made sense to Paul since it just seemed that everything else that ever happened was just filler material, meant to fill out the bits and pieces of their lives that were not taken up by some sort of grand storyline or adventure. The reality of the situation was quite a bit sadder then the hopeful thoughts of something more, they were both stuck in a rut at the tender age of 18. Paul thought about it long and hard and came to the realisation that he was 18 and all he had to show for it was a few papers praising his dedication and good grades, as if the knowledge that he’d graduated from his dull school was enough to make it all worth it. They had recommended that he continue on in his educational pursuits, making him smile and nod at their praising words as they spoke about schools and options closer to London where he would most likely go far in their opinions. He didn’t have the heart to tell them that he didn’t have even the slightest intention of taking their advice, knowing that there was no way he would be furthering his education any higher now. He was sure that his Mother would’ve been pressuring him to make something out of his life, maybe telling him to work towards becoming a doctor or a lawyer in some prestigious school in England that would cause his parents to scrimp and save for their eldest son.

That thought is precisely what made Paul choose his current path instead, for they were not wealthy folk by any means. In fact, they were downright poor at times, struggling to scrape together enough money to support themselves ever since Mary had passed, leaving their family in shambles as Jim struggled to make enough to support his two boys and put food on the table; all the while grieving the loss of his wife and trying to help his boys cope with the sudden loss of their Mother.

Paul grabbed his bag from where he’d dropped it when the phone had rung, hefting it over his shoulder as he made for the front door. He’d told his father that he was going to work with Ivan as an apprentice for a popular electronics company in Germany, rattling off some spiel about the industry taking off and the salary he could be making off of it with just a bit of trust and commitment to his apprenticeship. Jim had seemed a little skeptical at first but he’d been secretly relieved, the worrying thoughts of what to do if Paul wanted to further his education now put to rest by his son choosing to jump headfirst into the first stepping stones of a career that would be less full of doubt then something prestigious or posh.

Paul gave his childhood home one last glance before he slipped out the door, the only indications that he wouldn’t be returning anytime soon being the bag of clothes and belongings slung over his one shoulder, his precious acoustic strapped onto the other shoulder; and the note he’d left on the table for Mike to find when he got home from school or Jim to see if Mike missed it in favour of going out with his mates for some fun after school. Paul had deliberated about writing the note, thinking it might seem too much like a girly thing to do before giving in and scribbling down a quick message, wishing Mike and his Father well and promising to write to them soon. He hadn’t figured out how he would work out their return letters and postcards since he intended to give them an address in Munich instead of the actual address he’d be staying at in Hamburg but he was determined to make it work, lying about which city he would be staying in was one of the ways he had convinced Jim to let him go, telling him a convincing lie that he would be spending his apprenticeship in the bomb scarred yet much safer city of Munich.

After a hurried walk down the narrow streets of Liverpool to the docks he slowed up, his speediness due to the fear of being late and having to go by himself despite his confident words, he slowed his pace even further and took out a cigarette, lighting it and running a hand through his hair nervously as he tried to look calm and cool, burying the apprehension he felt under his usual pleasant facade.

He searched the fishermen working around the docks and promptly spotted Ivan, the other boy standing amongst the fishermen and still managing to look awkward and out of place compared to the older men despite his large broad frame. “Paul! Didn’t think you were gonna show.” He said upon seeing the raven haired boy, relief evident in his voice since he had still been unconvinced that the other would come even after Paul’s reassurances over the phone.

Paul huffed and shook his head, feeling more confident now that he saw that he wasn’t the only one feeling anxious about this whole trip. “Course I wasn’t gonna back out on you, I wouldn’t want to miss an opportunity like this.” He said enthusiastically, remembering the idea that Ivan had pitched to him a couple of weeks before. They were both itching for the chance to experience the world first hand as adults of sorts instead of just overhearing the wild stories about all night out parties that other teens had taken part in, leaving them to wonder behind their textbooks about that side of the world and lose focus on whatever they were cramming for to keep up their good grades. The restless curiosity seemed like it would go on forever unsolved until Ivan pitched his Hamburg idea, the undeniably shifty city now housing some of Liverpool’s very own local bands that were starting to make it in the music world. Hamburg was now turning into a bit of a local name around any teens who were at all interested in the music scene, the city being the place where these groups were whisked off to in order to hone their talents and their craft. At first Paul had baulked at the idea, thinking it too wild of a place to go before his adventurous side eventually won out and he reluctantly agreed to go, the pros steadily outweighing the cons in his mind and building up his excitement about all the possibilities the trip would hold for him.

He was shaken out of his thoughts when Ivan jostled his shoulder and gestured to their bags, a tinge of nerves colouring his voice. “I think it’s time to go.. Are you ready?’  
Paul took a deep breath and nodded, lifting his bag up off the damp planks of the dock as he took the first steps towards the boat. They were unsure of where to go once they boarded the boat so a gruff sailor steered them by their shoulders to some cramped benches, leaving them to find their seats in the somewhat musty compartment among the few other passengers. They got their stuff settled in and Paul resisted the urge to duck his head down, feeling the stares aimed his way from the older men scattered around the benches. There was no doubt that they stuck out like sore thumbs, Paul’s youthful soft face combined with Ivan’s obvious nerves making them both look like wayward schoolboys finding the most creative way to skip on a couple days of classes to brag to their mates about when they returned from their journey.

Paul busied himself by taking his guitar off the bench beside him and resting it in his lap, strumming the strings that were almost inaudible due to the loud rattling hum of the engine that permeated the small cramped compartment. After a while Paul could almost feel the suspicious stares losing interest as the ship started to move, the hull groaning as the aged boat left its moorings and started to begin its journey across the ocean, gently swaying due to the choppy waves cropping up from the cold winds coming off the ocean to toy with the edges of skirts and long coats, the fresh brisk breeze promising rain later with it’s damp undertones.

Paul placed his guitar safely against the wall and relaxed as best he could against the uncomfortable bench’s backrest, fingertips still burning slightly from the harshness of the steel strings combined with the oddly cold weather of the day, the chill a strange occurrence for the middle of August. Despite Liverpool’s reputation for dreary weather they did still have hot days especially at this time of year so it was a strange feeling to need to grab a coat before he left the McCartney residence that morning. Paul stifled a yawn, finding the rocking motion of the boat soothing after his almost sleepless night due to the nervous energy that had coursed through his veins, keeping his eyes open and staring at the ceiling well into the night.

Paul wasn’t even aware of the fact that he’d drifted off until he felt himself being shaken around as Ivan jumped up, accidentally throwing his arm against Paul’s side as he stood and ran from the bench to outside the small cabin, the sound of the door creaking open followed by loud retching and gagging. An older man with weathered skin and deep crows feet at the corners of his eyes chuckled softly and looked over at Paul, voice far friendlier than expected. “First time on a long voyage like this?” He asked, knowing that most kids who grew up around the docks probably got to ride on a small boat at some point or another but most didn’t end up on the open seas unless they were pursuing a seafaring job. Paul swallowed his nerves and nodded, allowing a small smile to grace his lips. “He can’t hold his drinks very well either.” He said, referring to Ivan. The sailor laughed at that and grinned, shifting to face Paul on the bench without so much as a grimace at the uncomfortable surface, seemingly unaffected by it or just used to it from the many times he had found himself on similar benches in his cargo loading career upon many a different various boats over the years. “Why’re you lads headed out to Germany? You look a little young to be strikin’ out on yer own.” He said in his thick scouser accent. Paul shrugged and looked up at the older man, feeling the need to be secretive about their destination still despite it not mattering who knew anymore. “Just getting out to see the world, Sir.” He replied, making the older sailor chuckle at his proper schoolboy manners. “Hey, nun’ more o’ that “Sir” shite. You can call me Jones.” He said, holding out his hand to shake. Paul nodded politely. “I’m Paul.” He said, deliberately leaving out his last name as he grasped the sailors hand in a firm handshake,the calluses and rough texture of his palms scraping against Paul's own relatively soft hands. They spoke back and forth about trivial things in Liverpool and whereabouts they had both grown up until Ivan came back, still looking a bit green from his seasickness. “I hope the fish enjoy fish n’ chips.” He croaked out, sitting back down on his spot on the bench beside Paul. Jones laughed and looked at Ivan introducing himself quickly before speaking again. “No wonder ye were sick, greasy chippies an’ inexperienced sealegs make for a surefire way t’ lose yer lunch.” He said, causing Paul to chuckle and Ivan's cheeks to flush with an embarrassed shade of pink. The conversation lulled after that due to them not having much in common aside from growing up in the same city albeit years apart.

After what seemed like ages they reached Germany, grabbing their bags and walking out onto the deck, dodging around one of the ship's sailors who was taking a piss off the side of the boat, clearly not caring that they were docked now where anyone could see him. The bottle of half empty brandy clutched in his hand may have had something to do with his cavalier nature but Paul didn’t stick around to dwell on it, instead following Ivan’s broad shoulders as they walked down the somewhat slick gangplank. The salty sea air much like Liverpool's own ports filled Paul's nose and he paused, allowing himself a brief smile. They had made it, they were now officially in Hamburg.


	2. Chapter 2

They spent a few moments in wide eyed wonder at the new shoreline before they made their way off the damp wooden planks of the dock, not particularly wanting to linger around and get jostled around and caught up in the bustle of men unloading the aging ship. Paul glanced around and briefly thought about finding Jones to say goodbye to the weathered sailor, his almost ingrained manners always getting the better of him, but he didn’t see him in the group of men working on the ship or the docks so he kept on walking, seeing no point in seeking out the man to say goodbye since they were hardly even acquaintances anyways, having just exchanged a few friendly words on the boat. His legs felt a bit wobbly and he swayed oddly for a moment when they finally got to completely solid ground, his mind not counting the sturdy dock as such since it was still above the cloudy port waters.

Paul paused when his feet were firmly planted on the cracked pavement of the sea salt smattered sidewalk, giving himself a moment to just take it all in. He found himself gawking at the large signs adorning the sides of the compact buildings crowded in along the side of the street across from them, the German words printed, and painted in some cases, on the brick and mortar walls a stark contrast to the familiar English spelling and characters Paul was used to seeing back home in dreary England. He felt a swell of butterflies in his stomach, finding that it was both exciting and nerve wracking to be unable to read the local language, making the whole place feel a bit more foreign and simultaneously more like an adventure of sorts to Paul, who really hadn’t been out and about in the world much since his Father almost always insisted that him and his younger brother Mike stay close to home where they could be under his proverbial protective wing.

Paul squinted up at a gritty red and white sign that seemed to be advertising fuel, based on the mildewy image of a petrol can he made out on the bottom left corner of the sign, and scrunched his nose up; his brain pointing out a grave error in their little plan for freedom. Paul looked over at Ivan with trepidation, realising the sheer extent of their rather large mistake in the planning of this whole affair. “Ivan, do you know how to speak German?” He asked carefully, the latter looking up with dawning realisation in his eyes, a clear indicator that he did not in fact speak German and hadn’t thought of this rather large problem before. “Damn.” He answered simply, looking just about as stumped as Paul was by their current predicament.  
Upon hearing that Ivan didn’t know what to do either Paul swallowed nervously and ran his fingers back through his hair, a habit he’d picked up from stressing over tests and grades and now tended to do whenever he felt anxious or stressed over a particular thing or problem, much to his Father’s dislike. “Ivan? Can you at least read German?” He asked hopefully, feeling his barely there hopes plummet and fizzle out when Ivan shook his head slowly, looking a bit too preoccupied to fully answer Paul with a verbal response as he tried to puzzle his way through their current predicament. “I’m not turning back and going home because of something like this, Paul. Just give me a moment and I'll try to think of something, alright?” Ivan said placatingly, needing Paul to be quiet so he could fully focus on the problem at hand.

After a few long drawn out moments Paul was getting anxious, trying to hide the fact that he now thought that they were well and truly stuck in this predicament. Just when he was about to voice his thoughts Ivan spoke, starting out slowly before his voice gradually picked up momentum, obviously finding more and more faith in his plan as he laid it out. “So.. The sailors on boats like the one we sailed on speak English like us cause they’re from Liverpool, right? I’m sure not all of them know German so there’s got to be a pub or something around where they cater to them, right? Cause there’s probably a lot of profit in running a pub or restaurant around here that has English speakers because people will pay a lot for the comforts of home. My Pa told me that, you know. He told me about the soldiers back in the war paying extra to have some random bits and bobs from home brought into the trenches when they were on the frontline. They just wanted to have something from home, even if it was something as simple as a photograph or a scrap of fabric from a familiar looking pattern that reminded them of a mother or sister or child or girlfriend that they were forced to leave behind to protect their country. Anyways my point is there’s gotta be a place around here, fashioned after some sort of English pub, you know? Someplace that the sailors can talk to someone and pretend that they’re just out for a pint and they’ve got a pretty lass at home waiting with dinner instead of being in another bleedin’ country.”

Paul felt relief at having some sort of plan on what they were going to do next and he smiled, practically beaming up at Ivan since he had basically saved them from turning back so early in their trip. “Great! Good plan, mate. Knew you’d come through.” He said, relief evident in his voice. “So, where do you think we could find a place like that around here? It’s gotta be near the ports to appeal to the right crowd, don’t you think?” He suggested, looking up at the taller lad as he spoke. Ivan made an indecisive noise and shifted around, looking back and forth up the street before he seemed to come to a decision. “I’d think that it would be further inland, don’t you think? Because the docks seem pretty full of the locals so inland is probably where a place like that would flourish. Remember, we were at war with the Germans not too long ago so the chances are they wouldn’t take kindly to a bar catering to “the enemy” right portside for everyone to see. I’ve heard that Germans can be quite stubborn so I don’t see them allowing that.” Ivan said, his knowledge of Germany based solely on books and studies they’d done in school where they’d covered Germany, the curriculums still highly biased based on the recent conflicts that the two countries had experienced with each other firsthand during the second World War, both countries still bearing the deep scars from air raids and bombings that had relentlessly battered at the towns and fields on both sides when the two opposing countries were seemingly determined to wipe each other off the map.

Paul hummed in agreement and looked up across the road, seeing a street leading further inland. “I suppose that’s as good a place as any to start looking?” He suggested. Ivan shrugged and grabbed his bag, the decision made by default of it being the only suggestion made. “Sure, can’t be that bad, right?” He said jokingly, carrying his case across the road. Paul picked up his own bag and followed Ivan, hoping that the carefree words of his friend hadn’t jinxed them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
